


Walking with Monsters

by dividebysix



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ....why was there a tag for 'Magical Healing Cock', Angst, Established pack., Future Fic, Healing, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Temporary Character Death, bamf!Lydia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dividebysix/pseuds/dividebysix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A future fic where the pack have settled, Erica and Jackson are gone, but the pack lives on. The pack are attacked by an old enemy, Stiles is hurt, which hurts them all and they all react as well as you'd think to it. They all work through their demons and mistrusts to come together, and realise how much they mean to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hulk Smash but Stiles Hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Erm, so first fic ever. I'm writing a book of my own (oh god) and I'm distracting myself from it's story by writing some sterek fanfiction in the hopes that I won't end up giving up and hating myself forever. It'll be a bit slow build, not glacial, but, not like "Oh I hate myself" *five days pass* "You're totes my mate forevs." Because my headcanon Derek has a million hang ups.
> 
> It's set four years after the end of season two, so everyone is all grown up. Stiles is magic, but in a way that's different to Lydia. Lydia is my favourite ever. Stiles has tattoos to help with casting, Lydia doesn't need them. I think I'll maybe add some pack member OC's but I don't know yet.
> 
> Anyway! I hope you enjoy!  
> Comments are welcome, but for the love of god learn the words 'constructive criticism' first.

Stiles hurt.

Like Hulk smash.

Stiles. Hurt.

This is all his drug dulled brain would let him know. He barely felt lucid, knew he'd been out for a fair few days but still felt exhausted and in pain. Maybe a few more hours asleep wouldn't kill him.  
Odin knows how much time had passed again, could have been seconds, could have been years. Stiles honestly didn't know, neither did he care. He just knew there were voices, sort of trying to whisper and fucking failing, and it was the worst thing in the entire world.  
     “What.....the holy......fuck.” He croaked out, the anger he felt no-where in his broken voice.  
     “Stiles.....Stiles oh thank god you're awake.” The sheriff dropped his phone. So that was the source of the whispering.  
     “Da...Dad?” he was still too scared to open his eyes, scared of the look disappointment on his Dad's face.  
     A tentative hand held his. “Son, Stiles I was so scared.” Stiles tried to frown, but face pulled. Why did his face pull. “You.....oh fuck Jesus....Stiles.....you were hurt.” He must have asked out loud again.  
     “Water.....I need water.” A straw touched his lips and he drank the whole glass in one. Achingly, he sat up, his Dad helping and putting pillows behind his back. The whole thing scaring him. He opened his eyes to assess what was going on. “Dad.” the Sheriff sat there in a t-shirt and jeans. A stark reminder to when he'd been fired, temporarily, and that was years ago. Things had changed now, they'd all grown and learned. But now, sat there in his t-shirt, haggard looking and unshaven, tired and a little broken. Clinging to Stiles' hand. “Dad, I'm okay.”  
     “But you weren't. What happened.”  
     Stiles sighed and frowned again, pulling bandages on his face. “Why are there.....Dad....is there a mirror?”  
     “Stiles not yet. No.”  
     He felt his heart explode, panic building up. “Dad.” He put a hand to his face, feeling bandages run under his right eye and above it. “Dad, what happened.”  
     The Sheriff hiccuped, drawing his lips into a thin line. “Those.....those fucking psychos.....they cut your face.” He'd clenched both his fists together, grinding his teeth. “After.....after you'd passed out. While you lay there after they'd.....after they'd tortured you.” Tears had started tracking down his cheeks. “They cut your face. Stiles. Your fucking face!”  
     Stiles remembered the fight. Not with a kanima, not with nutcase alphas, or crazed rogue werewolves. It was humans this time. Gerard Argent came back, not turned like anything weird. Or like some crazed monster. But human, and with a small army. A small heavily armed, army. They attacked during a pack movie night, no warning, no threats.

If it wasn't for them trying to sneak up on werewolves, they'd have all died. The fight was hard.

\-----------------

    “We're under attack!” Was all that could be screamed by Peter, before a rain of bullets blasted through the front of the new Hale house, the windows and walls going down with him. Derek unleashed an almighty Alpha roar as Lydia and Stiles stood pushing their hands forwards, putting a barrier outside of the house blocking the uncoming bullets.  
    “Oh Peter don't be such a drama queen!” Lydia snarled at the corpse. “You've survived worse than a few shitty bullets.” Peter took in a huge breath and arched up as he came back to life.  
     “Stop fucking around!” Derek roared, the betas all wolfed out, him shifting to full Alpha. “Stiles, how long will the barrier last?” he placed a clawed hand on the bottom of his spine  
     “Hours. Unless you want me to do something....fuck!” Stiles dropped to his knees as the barrier outside faltered. “They're hitting it with potions to take it down and drain me.” Clawing his hands into the rug his casting runes on his arms bleeding. “Fuck it's coming down....go...take them out!”

  
     The wolves all ran outside to attack the army and take back their land.

  
     “Stiles, you okay? I don't need to resurrect you too, do I?” Lydia was firing arrows out of the hole in the walls.  
Stiles threw up on the carpet, fuck did magic take it out of him. “Thanks for your amazing amount of concern, I'm so glad you care.”  
     “Not sure if I do Stiles.” An arrow flew past her head, ruffling her hair, making Lydia throw a fire ball. Derek is not going to like that. “I just can't stand to hear the bitching from your Alpha boyfriend if you died.”  
     “I can't even think of a hyperbole aptly sarcastic enough right now to describe how that makes me feel, so, you're a dick.”  
     “I hear it'd dangerous to use your entire.....fuck.....okay whatever....we'll end this later.” With a flick of cherry blonde hair, the tempest in a perfectly manicured teapot that was Lydia, had gone.  
     “Well, well. Thankfully we're now alone.” Stiles recognised that voice. It made him want to throw up all over again. His insides clenched and instantly it was fight or flight. A hand dragged at his ankle pulling him onto his back to face Gerard Argent. “Maybe I didn't beat you hard enough last time.” Stiles kicked and screamed, but the gunfire outside drowned out him being heard.  
     Stiles was dragged down into the basement, where all the work out equipment had been put and a sparring ring. A few chains ran across the one wall, for the occasional blood moon. Mostly to keep the wolves from trying to escape, and Lydia having to track them down and drag them home.  
     “So. You're still into kidnapping. Though, aren't I a bit old for you now?” Stiles got a punch to the jaw. “Punch is getting a bit weaker, Gerard, old age catching up with you. You are aware it's been like four years now right? Do you remember the date?” Being pinned by two large men, and unable to cast without his hands free left Stiles with his last weapon, sarcasm. He had to buy time.  
     Another punch to the jaw, and a kick to the stomach. “Ah I see that mouth of yours hasn't stopped. Maybe I should cut out your tongue to send a new message to your Alpha.”  
     “I'm pretty sure he'd thank you.” Another punch. “Seriously!”  
     “Men, get to work. I'm going to go see how much aconite it takes to kill an Alpha.” Gerard left, as the two men began to pummel into Stiles, thankfully he blacked out before the worst of the damage could be done.

\------------------------------

    “Dad......just....please....let me see.” Stiles could feel tears running down his face, but he had to see. He had to know what they did.  
     “Okay.....just.....fuck.....kid. Just wait until they're healed first....we can.....we can get surgery to fix them......”  
Stiles gagged, “Please.” Almost a whisper, and his father obliged, getting a hand mirror from out of the bathroom. Taking a deep breath, he held it up and checked out his wounds.  
     Starting at the left side of his face, the swelling must have gone down while he was out, but his face was a mess of bruises. Bags under his eyes, bloodshot and puffy. His hair was getting longer, too. Then he focused on the bandages, holding his breath and closing his eyes, he peeled them back and off.  
     His father sobbed by his side, muttering a silent and broken whisper to god. Opening his eyes he saw them, three huge gashes above and below his eye. Stitched together, looking angry and red and very deep. “I'm gonna....” He threw up over the side of the bed, then when he felt like he couldn't throw up any more, he screamed.

  
Screamed at whatever deity was listening, screamed at them all.

Screamed curses and death promises, wished for vengeance and then, finally, cried.

  
His father pulled up onto the bed, and held his son as he cried, crying with him just as hard.


	2. Of Homecoming and memories.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Stiles thinks about his relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I fail at this pretty badly.  
> Don't hate me.  
> Also, new chapter! Yay!  
> Mostly about Stiles turning point in his relationships with Derek.

Of Homecoming and memories.

After hours of crying, re-dressing wounds, attempting to eat awful hospital food and a bit more crying, Stiles was starting to crawl out of his skin. Melissa McCall was sat with him, doing a sudoku whilst his father had gone home to shower and let work know he'd be taking some time off.

“Is there, anyway, I can get out of here sooner? I need to know everyone is okay.” Stiles complained, throwing his head back and sighing.

Melissa chuckled, “Hopefully when your father comes back, we can go home. But you don't have to worry, everyone is fine. Scott will fill you in when you're ready.”

It was still new, well, two years in the making, but Melissa and Caleb was still a bit of a shocking mix. Stiles had walked in on his Dad and Melissa in the kitchen, laughing and holding each other and had left swiftly embarrassed. He was happy for them, they'd started dating after Caleb found out about werewolves. Apparently after a bottle of whiskey, some crying, some laughing and bonding over ridiculous lies they'd been told, they started to get together on their days off for dinner together. The before either of them new it they were together.

“Thank Odin. We're ordering pizza.”

“Anything you want, Stiles.”

Stiles looked at his hands. “Has, uhm, has....anyone....come to see me?”

Melissa smiled thinly. “Lydia came by with Scott, honestly, they were here the most. Only when you stabilised and we saw you were going to wake up soon did they go home to shower. Isaac has watched you, as has Peter and Boyd. There's always been someone here.”

“But not Derek.” Stiles drew his mouth into a thin line.

“...No....Stiles....I'm sure he was just busy.”

“Too busy to see me in the hospital. Did he text? Call? Anything?”

“Stiles....”

“....fuck.”

 

\--------------------------

 

Stiles and Derek didn't really expect a relationship, especially considering they sort of hated each other. Not real hate, they'd just never made any effort to be friends. Not like Stiles had done with the rest of the pack. So when the pack were trying to get Derek to fix the Hale House, instead of staying in his shitty studio box flat in the crack head district, Stiles was shocked when they sent him.

Ever the man of tact, Stiles just turned up with a sledge hammer and pounded down a wall while Derek was on a run. Shockingly, it did not go down well.

Stiles went for another swing, sweat dripping off him, he was down to just a tank and shorts, work boots on, gloves and safety goggles. Because safety first kids. Splinters are a bitch when you don't heal instantly. With a grunt, he hauled up the hammer, and felt it be ripped from his hands and heard it smash through a wall as it was throw away. His brain registered the pain before it even happened as he was slammed into a wall.

Derek wasn't even shouting, not screaming, he was fully wolfed out. Not alpha wolfed, thank the stars, but all teeth and hair and claws. He was whining. Deep in his chest, a hurt, angry whine.

“Derek.....it needs.” He was thrown across the room, slamming into a back wall. “Derek. You can hurt me all you want....I'll come back....” Derek grabbed his ankle and threw him across the room again like a rag doll. He bounced off the floor and landed on his front clutching his side.

Instinctively his casting runes up his arms, trailing on his biceps and shoulders, across his chest, all started to glow. Sensing real danger. “Derek......I will fight back.....I'm not one of your puppies.” Derek bent into a jump stance, preparing to attack and Stiles eyes inked over black. “One last chance Sourwolf.” Then that was it, Derek dived. Time slowed around Stiles, as he used the magic around him to his advantage, holding out a hand Derek stopped mid-air, with one flick of his wrist, Derek was hurtling through the interior walls and out the other side of the house.

“I've been training for years now Derek, you saw me take down more than one Alpha, and a siren, and let's not even get into the time me and Lydia stopped that horde of witches who breezed through like they owned the place.” He heard footsteps, he knew he'd hurt Derek if he could hear him. Derek dived again, another raise of his hand and Stiles hand him pinned against a wall. “Well this is an interesting turn.” Derek had blood running down his face, arms cut up and healing slowly, a gouge in his stomach weeping through a piece of broken glass. “Derek. This isn't a home. You need one. We all do.”

“It was a home.” An almost whispered growl came from Derek.

“Was. Derek, it was a home. It can be, again. With your new pack.”

Derek was shifting back to human. “How. I lost Erica, I lost Jackson.”

“We all did!” Stiles flailed, shouting. “We. All. Did. Do you know what it took to get Lydia to even leave the house again? To stop Boyd from falling apart every time he saw a blonde, or heard the click of heels? Fuck Derek. This pack isn't just you. It's all of us.”

Derek frowned his “I'm thinking” frown. Then his sad frown. “I can't lose everyone again.”

Stiles pulled Derek into a hug. “You won't.....if anything Lydia will just bring them back to life anyway.”

“She should stop doing that to Peter.” Derek relaxed into the hug, the first bit of comforting contact he'd had in years. Or more so, allowed himself to have. He pulled away, and pulled out the bit of glass wincing as he did so. “Fuck. Stiles, when did you get strong.”

“Always have been dude, you just didn't notice.” Stiles grinned.

“Oh...” is all Derek managed. A pregnant silence fell over the two, until the back of the house caved in on itself through the damage. Derek choked on a sob and broke down into Stiles' arms. “I'm a failure.....”

Stiles held Derek close. “No, the only true failure is when you stop trying.”

They stayed like that for a while, until the sound of cracking wood made them both have to go outside. Then over the course of the next few months, Derek, with the help of his pack started to rebuild the Hale House, nothing like it was when it stood before, but exactly like home.

 

\-------------------------------

 

Stiles was pulling up his drive, his father oddly quiet. Not his sad quiet, his “I've got a secret quiet” which all became hugely apparent as soon as he walked through his front door and was greeted by his pack and a party, even a welcome home banner in weird swirled painting. Which could only have been Isaac.

“Oh christ, you guys!” Stiles grinned and got pulled into a group hug. Even Lydia, Queen of No-Touching, squeezed his bicep.

“I....I was scared.....about you.....being dead.” She forced out.

“That sounded painful dude.”

“It was. Never. And I mean fucking. Never. Do that again.” Her eyes steely, and stern. Pulling her patented Bitch Stare. Trademark. Copywrite.

“Well, unless Gerard comes back to get me again, I make no promises.”

“Yeah......Derek literally tore him to pieces. Like, I mean mangled. Seriously dude. We found an eyeball in a tree.” Scott said through a mouth full of curly fries.

“I don't know which is more disgusting.” Stiles drawled. “So....uhm....where is he?”

“He....uh....he wouldn't come.” Isaac looked at the floor.

“Why.”

“He didn't say. Just did his growly voice and made us all go.”

“Oh. Fuck it. I'm done. I'm just glad you're all okay.” Stiles forced a smile.

His father put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.


	3. Rain and Breaking and Entering.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia and Stiles friendship revealed, and Scott shows up.

 

 

Stiles exhaled loudly after finally being able to strip down to some pyjamas in his old bedroom, and get into the bed he had as a teenager. Now he lived with Scott in a small apartment close to the forest border, just in case there's an Avengers Assemble emergency.

He still ached, and was exhausted. The whole day a blur, a party probably wasn't the best idea, really. But he enjoyed it all the same. He was just glad everyone was okay.

His window lock clicked and he heard the gentle slide as it opened. “Oh....so NOW the fabled Sourwol.....oh.”

“I remember a time when this was probably one of your many masturbatory fantasies.” Lydia gracefully slid through the window, her hair tied up in a pony tail, wearing a black vest, her bow and arrow on her back, knives in her boots.

“Battle gear? Really? What's up Black Widow, someone attacking?”

There was a quirk in her lips, probably from being compared to Scarlett Johansson. “No, everything is fine. Just running the perimeter, we've all been a bit on edge....since...you know.”

Stiles rubbed the corner of his bandage on his face, where it itched. “Yeah....I know.”

“Scars can be sexy....so I hear.”

“I'm a freak, Lydia. I was weird before, but now.....now you can see it on my face....I'm a freak.”

Lydia had shed her boots and weapons and was sat cross legged on the bed with Stiles. “Stiles......I'm so sorry I left you.....if I'd have known he was there....” There were tears in her eyes.

“No...Stop. Don't be sorry. Gerard did it. Not you.” Stiles had grabbed her hands, holding them tight.

“But....Stiles......oh god.....there was so much blood.” She let go to wipe the tears from her face. “I should have protected you! Those potions......they were to drain your powers and make you weak. I shouldn't have left....”

“It's okay....I'm okay.”

“Are you though?”  
“Oh fuck no. But I should be.....I will be eventually.”

“My Mother knows a good surgeon.”

Stiles smiled, “They'll heal. The doctors say I shouldn't have scars too badly....erm....where is Derek?”

Lydia's face hardened. “He won't come......He....You shouldn't see him.”

A frown fell on Stiles' face, “Why wouldn't I want to see the man I'm dating.”

“Because he's a prick, Stiles. Who doesn't visit their friend in the hospital after they nearly die? Fuck Stiles....even Chris Argent came.”

“What?!” Stiles flailed his arms and nearly fell off his bed.

“Your Dad punched him in the face, and said if he ever saw his family again, there'd be an accident.”

Stiles sat there mouth gaping, “Seriously.”

“Yep”

“My Dad threatened a hunter?”

“A hunters entire family.”

“My Dad threatened a hunters entire family.”

“Jesus Stiles, how much of your brain fell out.....yes. Your Dad threatened an entire family of hunters, saying he'd use the entire police force to cover it up and no one would ever know.”

“Well. My Dad gets to have all the fried food he wants for the next few days.”

Lydia snorted a laugh, “Okay, you need sleep and I should be patrolling. Peter is out on his own with Isaac, I'd bet money I'm gonna have to go get them out of Jungle.”

“Aww dude, what! They're in Jungle?” He threw his head back in complaint.

Lydia folded her arms across her chest. “No Stiles. No Jungle for you. Sleep.”

Stiles pouted, and tried his best puppy dog eyes, “But.....I wanna drink and dance.”

“You can't handle your drink, and your insane flailing isn't dancing.” She smiled, “Plus, no one does puppy dog like Scott and Isaac.”

“Fuck you, I'll do what I want.”

“If I find you in Jungle, I'll break both your legs.” She'd stood up and was putting on her boots. “You need rest. I'll see you tomorrow, there's a pack meeting.”

“Okay dude, I'll see you then.” Stiles waved and Lydia disappeared through the window.

Stiles yawned and scratched at his stomach, he went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, popped a sleeping pill and got into bed and waited for sleep to take him.

Stiles woke in the night nearly hourly, even with the sleeping pill, he had nightmare after nightmare. Finally, after hours of tossing and turning in bed, Stiles finally cried himself to the worst night sleep he could ever have had.

 

 

Waking up, Stiles showered and got himself dressed, all automatically. He fried off his father some bacon for breakfast, and left a note saying where he was going. Getting into his trusty old jeep, he drove the familiar path to the Hale house.

He was nervous, what was Derek's problem. Why hadn't he come to see him and why would no one talk about it. Pulling into the drive way, the new wood outside the house was still unpainted and was a stark contrast to the painted parts on the upper floors. Stiles wasn't around to see the full amount of damage done to the house in the fight with Gerard and his psycho army, but he could see from the repair work that it must have been one hell of a fight.

Everyone’s cars were already there, so Stiles let himself into the house without knocking, and went to the study where meetings were usually held.

“Hey everyone!” Stiles was met with a whole group of blank stares. “Oh wow, I guess you were all hit in the head and have amnesia. Or a case of dick-itus.”

“Erm....Stiles....why are you here?” Danny had stood and was walking to Stiles.

“Pack meeting, I'm pack, ta-dah, I'm here!” Stiles threw his arms into the air.

“Get out.” Derek growled.

That hurt worse than any punch Stiles has ever had. “....what.”

“Get out, Stiles. I don't want you in my pack.” The betas whined, and Scott and Lydia stood with their friend, Lydia holding his hand. “Where are you two going?”

“With him. He's our best friend. You don't want him?” Scott said, holding his chin high.

“You don't get us.” Lydia finished.

The sky darkened and rain clouds came over head, Lydia nuzzled into Stiles side, trying to sooth him and he shook with pain.

“Fine.” A clap of thunder. “I'll leave. You'll never have to see me again.” Stiles walked out of the house, Scott and Lydia following him, the door slammed and rain hammered down onto Beacon Hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've not written about the Argents for reasons. Allison just annoyed me a bit, and I figured with her and Scott broken up, she wouldn't be around as much.
> 
> But yeah, I hope you're enjoying this!  
> Thanks for the kudos!! Seriously, they make my day.

**Author's Note:**

> Cleaned it up a bit, gonna update the chapters as I write them, so not really on some pattern, just whenever I write some more!


End file.
